


Ripples

by caras_galadhon (Galadriel)



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Ankle Cuffs, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Collars, Established Relationship, First Time, Fisting, Kink, M/M, Restraints, Spanking, Wrist Cuffs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-14
Updated: 2010-07-14
Packaged: 2017-11-03 08:01:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/379146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galadriel/pseuds/caras_galadhon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Viggo wanted Sean to be so much more than a coworker and friend; mostly, though, Sean was a bit of an enigma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ripples

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the very generous and patient [](http://kittylass.livejournal.com/profile)[**kittylass**](http://kittylass.livejournal.com/), who won my services in exchange for a [](http://help-haiti.livejournal.com/profile)[**help_haiti**](http://help-haiti.livejournal.com/) donation. I promised [](http://kittylass.livejournal.com/profile)[**kittylass**](http://kittylass.livejournal.com/) 2500 words of story, and am delivering just slightly over 5400. I sincerely hope it's everything you wanted it to be, madame. Many thanks to [](http://savageseraph.livejournal.com/profile)[**savageseraph**](http://savageseraph.livejournal.com/), First Among Fishes, and [](http://empy.livejournal.com/profile)[**empy**](http://empy.livejournal.com/), my Guinea Pig Tester, for both being so helpful and cheering me on.

"Have you, y'know, ever done anything a bit... kinky?"

"Huh?" Beer halfway to his lips, Viggo let hand and bottle thump back down to the table. He could feel the corners of his eyes crinkle as he looked across the table at his companion. "What, you mean fuzzy pink handcuffs and stripper boots?" He snorted, searching for an answering trace of humour on Sean's face.

"Aye," Sean's shoulders rose and fell, "that, and other things." His gaze fell from Viggo's face to the scarred tabletop between them, fingers clenching almost imperceptibly around his own beer.

Viggo's eyebrows retreated to his hairline. It seemed as if Sean was entirely serious, and that, Viggo knew, was something not to take lightly. "Sure," he murmured, pitching his voice a little lower, a little gentler, but not so much to make him sound overcautious, "Sure, I have. Why?"

A moment of silence passed, in which Viggo held his breath.

"No reason." His smile was a little tight around the edges, the look in Sean's eyes a little too shuttered, whatever window he'd opened so briefly now shut tightly closed. "Just making conversation. Between mates. ...I'll get the next round." Sean rose, and before Viggo could say a word, he was already halfway across the floor, headed for the bar.

Viggo squeezed his eyes shut tight, cursing himself under his breath. It felt as if something important had slipped right through his fingers, some rare opportunity wasted.

***

Sean smiled up at him, all traces of stress or worry smoothed from his features. Viggo let his gaze slide over Sean's body -- an indulgence he wasn't above taking over and over again -- tracing every curve and angle, learning and relearning every muscle and plane. There was something incredibly heady about having Sean kneel in front of him, naked but for a few strips of leather, sleek and lean and obviously aroused, while Viggo reclined in his chair, fully clothed, suitably buttoned, properly proper.

It was enough to make him hard even in the middle of the day, far from Sean, amidst difficult, sad scenes, during long script meetings. All he had to do was think of what might be waiting for him when he got home, and he would be immediately, achingly aroused.

Just like now.

Viggo reached out, stroking Sean's hair away from his face, luxuriating in the way he leaned into Viggo's every touch, in the light scrape of stubble against his palm, shortly soothed away by the brush of lips and the lightest flicker of a tongue. He still felt a little shock of electricity whenever Sean appeared in front of him, slowly, wordlessly stripping off each piece of clothing, and finally sinking to his knees, hard and eager.

This time, as Sean's clothes had fallen to the floor, Viggo was surprised to see he was already wearing the heavy leather wrist and ankle cuffs Viggo was so used to buckling in place for him. He felt the smile tug at the corner of his lips, realization dawning that Sean had been thinking about this evening as much as he had, maybe more. Reaching forward, Viggo slid his hand down Sean's forearm, drawing it upward until he had Sean's wrist close. The earthy scent of the wrist cuff mingled with Sean's own scent, musky and heady with lust.

On a whim, he kissed the leather, letting his tonguetip trace the inlaid pattern. As the faintest tang of oil prickled across his tastebuds, he felt his cock fill further, hardening to just below the point of pain. He rubbed his thumb over the cuff, luxuriating in its supple softness. Still holding Sean's wrist, he let his hand sink to rest in his lap. "We'll have to get your collar out later."

Viggo couldn't suppress the groan that bubbled up from his chest at the sight of Sean's body shuddering in anticipated pleasure.

***

"You've got something--" Sean mimed wiping at the corner of his mouth, leaning ever so slightly across the picnic table.

"Oh." Viggo chuckled as he put down his hot dog, picked up his napkin and smeared mustard and ketchup across the paper. "There. Better?"

Sean shook his head. "No, you've still got a little right--" His fingers moved higher, flicking at imaginary crumbs in his own moustache. Yet another pass with the napkin still had Sean frowning. "Look, why don't you let me do it?" He slid a little closer on the bench, cupping Viggo's chin in one hand while his fingertips brushed over Viggo's upper lip.

It took all of Viggo's focus to stifle the shiver that ran through him at Sean's touch. He wet his lips, smiling at the concentration on Sean's face as he scanned Viggo's mouth for more detritus, and wondered for the thousandth time what Sean would taste like once he finally got up the nerve to kiss him. Tobacco, for sure. Beer at the end of the day, sweat and salt at the end of a scene, molasses or condensed milk on waking, builder's tea and buttered toast in late morning light.

He wasn't exactly sure when he'd begun falling this heavily for Sean, hard enough to keep him awake at night imagining the taste, the smell, the feel of him, but it was simple to pinpoint when he'd first started imagining kissing him: early on in filming, in the midst of a scene, Viggo'd flubbed a line, and as he looked around at the other actors, he'd caught sight of Sean peering out from beneath Boromir's heavy brow and severe scowl, a shy smile twitching in the corners of his mouth, amusement twinkling in his suddenly-striking green eyes.

That same amusement he could see now, perfectly at home on the lips of a man cleaning condiments off a friend's face not a stone's throw from the hot dog vendor, and within spitting distance of the sea. Viggo drew a deep breath, savouring the salt-scent of the water, the tiniest hint of musk and Sean, and wondered again when he'd have the balls to man up and--

\--Sean's lips were as soft as the breeze. One minute they brushed against his own, the next they slipped away as if they'd never been there. Viggo blinked, tasting onions and barbeque sauce, the only sign that what he'd thought happened _had happened_ , because Sean was standing and smiling and saying something about getting back before they were missed.

Viggo wanted to say something, felt the words, "I love you," on his lips, but the moment passed like a wave spreading across the shore.

***

Lost in his thoughts, Viggo let himself drift through a raft of possibilities, each more tempting than the last. Viggo's tastes, after all, were wide and varied, and Sean was always such a receptive and willing partner.

Perhaps Viggo would gag him; it was always a pleasure to see Sean relax into the gag, sure in his ability to keep silent, quietly amused at Viggo's whim, and then to see that surety slowly turn to frustration as he struggled to contain the moans and whimpers that never failed to come. Viggo loved to trace the curve of Sean's neck as his head fell forward, his jaw tight, eyes squeezed closed, and finally, most satisfyingly, he loved the way Sean would give over once more, throat working, chest heaving, hips rocking as the cries came quick and loud, the gag only barely muffling Sean's shouts, the pleasure he took in each blow, thrust or touch Viggo gave him.

Or maybe today was a day for toys. They had such a nice collection, it was a shame not to use them more often. Viggo licked his lips at the thought of Sean stretched out, laid bare, tied firmly in place so he could do little more than raise his hips as Viggo slid a thick plug home, twisting it lightly after it was seated deep, watching Sean shudder as his body adjusted and accepted, opening up to the desire to be used, taken, fucked at Viggo's whim.

A soft nudge jolted Viggo from his musings. He blinked and nodded as Sean nudged his knees again, moving closer. The gentle pressure of Sean's fingers on his fly was an aphrodisiac all on its own, exceeded only by the susurration of the metal teeth of his zipper parting, the rustle of cloth, the warmth of Sean's breath on his newly-exposed skin. It was a struggle to keep his eyes open, to watch as Sean freed his cock and licked across the head, to calm the involuntary shudder that ran through him at the rasp of tongue. But there were few sights as heady as watching Sean take his cock, his lips stretching, throat working as he leaned forward, a slow slide of lips, tongue and teeth to the base, enough prickle to make his nerves snap, enough gentle pressure to coax Viggo's hips upward in hopes of gaining the tiniest half-inch more.

Viggo groaned deeply as his head fell backward, eyes closing, losing the battle to watch and catalogue each expression that crossed Sean's face, each flicker of thought, each small muscle movement as his throat closed around Viggo. Swallowing heavily, mimicking the way Sean swallowed around his shaft, Viggo let himself float on sensation alone.

As much as he was content to let the moment spin out, lengthen into minutes, hours of attention, the world narrowed down to the feel of Sean's mouth, Sean seemed to have other plans. Before he could find the breath to protest, to insist Sean slow down, Viggo found himself shuddering, shivering, jerking against the chair, caught between the need to come and the desire to draw it out indefinitely. He gasped, gulping down air, and as his eyes snapped open, as his chest expanded in a shout, he had one brief glimpse of Sean's face: eyelashes low, cheeks flushed, and a smug smirk that heralded the flicker of tongue over sensitized skin.

Viggo whimpered as he came, Sean's smirk burned into the space behind his eyelids.

***

"...So I thought I might stay with you awhile." Sean shrugged, dropping his duffle on the floor with a thud. "Keep each other company. Y'know, since your place is so big and all." He gestured at the inner hallway just before shouldering his way past Viggo, still retrieving his jaw from the floor. Viggo had thought it was the postman knocking, or the Jehovah's Witnesses again. He'd never expected to meet them on this side of the world, but now they wouldn't leave him alone; he had a Bible cover inscribed with his family name as evidence of their odd visits, but even that paled in the face of Sean apparently moving right in with him, no advance warning, no conversations or invites to pave the way.

Once he'd closed his mouth, Viggo realized he was alone in the hall, and set off through the house in search of his new roommate. He found Sean in his kitchen, rooting through cupboards, retrieving mugs and old packets of tea. The kettle was already on to boil, and Sean had evidently found his not-so-secret stash of Tim Tams, now set down in the middle of the table. At a loss for anything else to do, Viggo sat down in a chair, pulling the biscuit packet towards himself.

"The hotel was getting lonely," Sean murmured, the slop of water in each mug a comforting sound, "especially since that nice lass from the Netherlands went home. Apparently she was on a working holiday or summat, and I guess that meant she wasn't going to keep bringing me fresh towels anymore." He turned and set a mug down in front of Viggo, the liquid already murky with cream. "Be careful, it's hot."

Viggo nodded mutely, gaze torn between the swirl of tea and the man who prepared it. It wasn't so much that he didn't want Sean here, just that he didn't _expect_ him here, even while he was settling down across from him, cupping his own drink in his hands. It was a little like waking up to find your wet dream stretched out next to you, warm and naked and complaining about the sticky sheets.

"I can stay, right? It's ok?"

Viggo blinked, his mind racing to catch up. He suspected he'd missed some key part of the conversation, but whatever Sean had asked of him, he knew the answer would always be 'yes'. "Of course. I have a guest room, and you're a guest."

Sean smiled faintly over his tea, shaking his head gently. "I'm tired of borrowed rooms, and I don't want you to think of me as a guest. ...Besides, your room'll do just fine. There's plenty of space for me in your bed."

Once more, Viggo mentally reached for his jawbone, unhinged and lost on the floor, just the same as his voice and wits.

***

It might have been a moment, it might have been more, but when Viggo finally came back to himself, breath and pulse slowing to something approaching normal, Sean was still there, patiently waiting, smiling up at him from between Viggo's knees, chin resting on his thigh.

Sean's hair was soft under Viggo's fingertips, and he let them slide lower. Without fail, even the smallest tickle would make Sean arch his neck, a graceful curve that Viggo never tired of tracing. Viggo's fingers brushed back and forth, coaxing a soft moan from Sean's throat. He smiled down at Sean and murmured, "Bedroom."

A soft kiss pressed to his palm, and then Sean was getting up, straightening, and without so much as the hint of hesitation, he headed off down the hall. Viggo chuckled to himself, suddenly struck by a barely-remembered and badly-mangled pick-up line, something about how the unfortunate listener looked best when walking away. As Viggo watched Sean's magnificent, tight ass disappear, he reflected that there was much to recommend watching Sean walk away.

He waited just long enough to feel the first tingle of anticipation at the base of his spine before he got up out of his chair, straightened his clothes, zipped himself back up, and meandered down the hallway to join Sean in their bedroom.

Sean, ever clever, was already spread out across the mattress in the most attractive of ways, waiting for Viggo to join him. He sighed in pleasure as Viggo entered the room, rolling from his stomach to his side, displaying his erection with a light glide of fingers from base to tip. He shuddered, making Viggo reach for his shirt collar and tug, fumbling to undo the first few buttons, needing a little cooling air against his skin.

Crossing the distance between door and bed, Viggo sat on the edge, reaching out to stroke Sean's side. It was easy, oh so easy to lean in and capture his mouth in a kiss, one that began like a caress and deepened into a claim. When Viggo pulled back, they were both breathing hard, and Sean's desire -- sharp, spiced and sinful -- was heavy on Viggo's tongue. He swallowed, surprised to feel his cock twitch so soon after coming, the involuntary twinge of muscle almost painful in its reluctance.

"What do you want?" he murmured, palm sliding down the side of Sean's neck, his shoulder, his arm, hip and thigh. Sean made a soft sound in the back of his throat, and then, in silent answer, slowly sat up, stretched and carefully draped himself over Viggo's lap.

Viggo failed to swallow the soft noise that escaped. "You're sure?" He stroked his hand over the curve of Sean's ass, down the back of his thighs to the crease of his knees.

Sean nodded. "Aye." He shifted against Viggo's lap, getting a little more comfortable before he quieted, his cock pressed against Viggo's leg.

"Ok." Viggo bit his lip, marvelling at the thought of having this much power willingly turned over to him. "Ok," he echoed, as a flutter in his stomach betrayed what he wasn't sure was excitement or nervousness. More likely, it was some heady, addictive mix of the two.

***

"...tea," Sean mumbled, slipping out from under the sweat-soaked sheets. He padded across the bedroom floor, giving Viggo an impressive view of the ass he'd just finished pounding into the mattress. He smirked slightly at how gingerly Sean moved, secure in the knowledge Sean wouldn't forget Viggo's prowess for some time.

His muscles twinged a little, making him groan, a silent reminder that Viggo wouldn't be forgetting Sean anytime soon either. The sheets slid down his chest as he levered himself into something close to a sitting position, letting his gaze slide from the doorway to the mirror and his own rumpled reflection, to the dresser and it's smooth wood and the...

...What was that sitting on the corner of the dresser? Viggo squinted and rubbed at his eyes. For all it seemed to be a mess of leather and buckles, a belt couldn't be coiled that tightly, couldn't be that small. There seemed to be a little ring on the front, perfect for clipping--

"Hey," he sat up straighter, hoping Sean could hear him over the clatter of dishes and the sploosh of water in the kitchen, "are you thinking of getting a dog?"

A small creak and a sudden silence accompanied the faucet's cutoff. There was the telltale rattle of crockery, and then... nothing.

Viggo wet his lips. "Bean?" He frowned at the loop of leather looking back at him. "Are you getting a dog?"

"Hmm?" Sean appeared in the doorway, completely naked except for the dishcloth in his hands.

"A dog. Is that for a dog?" Viggo gestured at the dresser, impatience making his movements sharp.

Sean glanced down at the offending item, then back at Viggo amidst his kingdom of wrinkled sheets. "No."

"But it's a collar."

"Mmhmm."

This was getting ridiculous. "Well, it's not for me," he muttered, peevishness creeping in around the corners of his words.

Sean smiled. "No. It's not."

"Then what--" The piping of a familiar whistle wound its way down the hallway and into the room, cutting Viggo's question off at the knees. Sean shrugged as he turned around to answer the kettle's call.

It wasn't until Sean's very fine ass had once more disappeared that the penny dropped. There was no need to look in the mirror, as Viggo could feel the grin spreading across his face. He slid lower in the bed, stretching out, folding his arms behind his head as he beamed at the ceiling. _A collar, hmm?_ He could work with that.

***

The first blow drew little more than a grunt from Sean, his body jerking slightly at the sting. Viggo groaned softly at the bright red handprint that so quickly faded to pink, then disappeared into nothing at all. He stroked one cheek for a long moment, feeling Sean relax into the attention, then brought three more blows to bear, fast and sharp.

It would be long enough for Viggo's hand to sting before Sean would let more than the odd gasp or moan slip free, but even so, Viggo could see Sean's slide further under in the set of his shoulders, the arch of his back, the spread of his legs. By the time the first full-throated groan shuddered from Sean's lips, he was rocking his hips, rubbing himself against Viggo's pants, his legs spread wide in invitation, his ass rising to meet each slap.

By the time Viggo's hand burned at each impact, Sean's skin, from his ass to his thighs, had turned bright red, and the lightest caress drew a whimper from his throat. If Viggo had planned better, he'd be closer to the side table, closer to the lube, and he'd be well on his way to slipping two well-slicked up fingers inside Sean. As it was, he had little but spit to wet his fingertip with as he slid it between Sean's cheeks, a gentle tease of small circles and light presses.

The noises Sean made were addictive: rumbling groans from deep in his chest, breathy sighs from the back of his throat. He was shivering now, no hint of restraint, just simple instinctual movements meant to prolong each touch, each slap, each tease a little longer. It was oh so tough to make the decision to move him off Viggo's lap and onto the bed, but there were so many things Viggo wanted to do to him, and it'd be so much easier with Sean laid out like the buffet he was.

A few gentle nudges and soft commands got Sean moving enough to settle him on the mattress. As Viggo guided him onto his back, Viggo had to smile at the quiet moan and slight wince as Sean's abused flesh pressed against the sheets.

Viggo settled beside him, stroking Sean's hair, memorizing the way he looked just now, in this moment. Sean's eyes were dark, unfocussed, his cheeks and neck mottled white and red, the beginnings of a light sheen of sweat all over his body. It was hard not to reach out, fist Sean's cock and stroke him to completion, but Sean obviously needed these few moments, this connection, an eye of calm in the midst of the storm before they went any further.

"Good?" he breathed in Sean's ear, licking lightly at the shell.

He was rewarded with a groan and nod, and a moment later, " _More_."

Viggo blinked. "More? Already?"

Sean nodded.

After a long pause spent watching Sean to see how far down he must be, Viggo nodded. "All right," he smiled. "What my boy wants, he gets." He touched the inside of Sean's thighs, one long slow stroke, pleased at how easily Sean parted his legs, how readily he shifted his hips. "Hand me a pillow, raise your hips, and we'll get started."

***

"Goddamn fucking cocksucking arsehole _directors_!" The door slammed shut, the frame shuddering in the wake of Sean's rage.

For one long moment, Viggo waited for plaster to come crashing down from the ceiling, but it held tight, no doubt frightened to descend to the same level as Sean's tirade. Viggo blinked, closed the book he'd been reading, holding his place with a finger. "Bad day?"

"Bad day? _Bad day_?" Sean seemed more than a little affronted that Viggo had to ask. He stormed the few steps from foyer to front room, threw his bag and jacket at a chair hard enough to make the poor thing rock back on its legs, and finally he stood in front of Viggo, waving his arms, gesturing punctuating another flood of fury.

As the rant went on, and Sean's voice thickened under anger and accent, leaving Viggo little choice but to nod and make soothing, comforting noises, he increasingly lost the ability to understand a word Sean was saying. There were only two things that caused the normally reticent man to bubble over with words, and _this_ was the less fun kind.

Eventually, Sean sank to the couch beside Viggo, empty of words and looking for a little comfort. Viggo slid an arm around his shoulders, tugging him closer, stroking his upper arm while he slowly relaxed. Silence settled in, and as it lengthened and spun out, Viggo began to idly wonder if a little more... _intensive_ comfort would get rid of that lingering edge of frustration that still clung to the corners of Sean's eyes. He cleared his throat, a smile already tugging at his mouth at the thought of Sean bound and helpless, hard and begging. "Do you want to get your collar?"

Viggo felt Sean's body stiffen. "What?"

"We could play, if you wanted. You know, exchange the sting of frustration for the sting of a whip's tail, and all that." He smirked, waiting for the eager acceptance that was sure to follow.

A long moment passed, in which Viggo's faith flickered, wavered, and then was completely extinguished as Sean pulled away entirely. In the blink of an eye, he was once more standing in front of Viggo, frowning deeply. "I'm not broken."

"I didn't say you were." Viggo could feel his eyebrows retreating into his hairline; he skimmed back over his suggestion in his mind, looking for the offending remark.

"I don't need to be fixed."

"I didn't think you did." He swallowed, trying as best he could to sound confident and comforting. He could see Sean working up another head of steam, this time directed squarely at Viggo, and if he'd learned nothing else from their short time together, it was that it was never wise to make a Sheffielder angry. Viggo steeled himself, hoping against hope he could mitigate whatever damage he'd done, at least a little.

Sean scowled, and for a long moment Viggo considered the best place to sleep that wasn't his own bed. The spare bedroom would do well enough, but it might not be a good plan to be within reach of follow-up rages. Maybe he could bunk with one of the Hobbits, or failing that, there was always the Cuntebago--

Sean's mouth opened, closed, and then, like the passing of a cool breeze, the fury left his expression, replaced by what looked like mild irritation. "All that's for _play_ , not work." He shook his head. "It's not for working out issues, and I don't need your pop psychology." He huffed, turned on his heel and stalked towards the back of the house. "I'll be out in the yard. Your garden looks like total shite."

Stunned and feeling not a little chastened, Viggo didn't even attempt to reply. Instead, he waited for the rising flush of his cheeks to break and fade, the distant, clanking sounds of Sean working his issues out on the garden as backdrop to his shame.

***

Four points of restraint, two to the headboard, two to the foot. Viggo couldn't be more pleased with the care they'd taken in setting up the framework that made it so very easy to clip Sean, cuffs and all, into place. Only one thing remained undone.

He reached across Sean's body, enjoying the soft hiss as his shirt rasped against Sean's chest, pulled open the drawer and removed a stout strip of leather, making sure to hold it within Sean's range of vision. Viggo stroked the length of it, absently noting the tooled design, its heavy scent, and Sean's reaction. His breath came faster, his pupils dilating, lips parting, and his hips rising ever so slightly, as if anticipating what was to come.

Viggo chuckled. "Way ahead of me already, hmm?" He leaned closer, holding out the collar. "Raise your head."

It seemed a shame to cover such a gorgeous neck, but there were few things as beautiful as Sean collared. No matter how clearly in submissive headspace he was, a little bit of leather and a D-ring buckled around his throat made him slide just that much deeper.

Which was exactly what was happening now. Dark eyes darkened further, and Sean's ability to focus seemed to disappear. He whimpered softly as the buckle closed, wetting his lips as his whole body shivered, his cock jerking against Viggo's stomach.

"There we are. That's my boy," Viggo soothed. He kissed Sean deeply, grazing Sean's tongue with his own before moving to his neck, licking at the stripes of skin exposed above and below the collar, nipping lightly, nuzzling softly. "There we are," he murmured, tracing the ridge of leather, mingling with it the taste of Sean's skin.

Sean moaned, arching up off the bed as Viggo leisurely made his way down Sean's body, paying extra attention to sensitive spots, taking great pride in the half-words and tiny gasps coaxed from each brush of tongue, each nip of teeth. Settling between Sean's bound and spread legs, Viggo smiled up at him, each breath carrying a compliment, an expression of desire for the man stretched out beneath him. He breathed across Sean's cock, beaming at the softest, "Please," that came from it, then kissed the head lightly, licked a wide stripe up the shaft, and sat up, chuckling.

Sean twisted against the restraints, a small line appearing between his brows, but Viggo shook his head. "Not tonight." He smiled. "I have something so much better planned." He unbuttoned his shirt cuffs, one after the other, taking his time as he folded each back over his wrists, his elbows, his upper arms. It might have been a little cruel to make Sean wait as he straightened each fold, tugged out each wrinkle, but the way Sean squirmed and whined was so very satisfying.

Once he was done, once his sleeves were safely out of the way, Viggo reached for the lube -- this time so much closer and more convenient -- and slicked up his fingers. He leaned over, licking up from the base of Sean's cock to the very tip as he eased two fingers into Sean, savouring the deep sigh, the tremble of muscle as Sean slowly opened up under his hands.

Viggo found himself almost unconsciously making soothing noises as he set up a gentle rhythm of thrusts, carefully sliding in a third finger, then a fourth as Sean stretched to accommodate him. He paused then, adding a little more lube even as he smiled up at Sean, waiting.

He didn't have to wait long.

"Please," Sean mumbled, clenching around Viggo's hand, making himself shudder, "Please, _more_."

"What was that?" Viggo tucked his thumb into his palm, carefully pressing forward, "I don't think I caught that."

"Please. Please, I need--"

Whatever it was Sean needed was cut off in a groan as Viggo eased his wrist into Sean. He laid his free hand on Sean's hip, keeping him still as Viggo shifted a few inches deeper, pausing as Sean adjusted to the stretch and fill. "There." He rocked his hand side-to-side experimentally and was rewarded with a hitch in Sean's breath. "Ok?"

Sean nodded, eyes wide, teeth pressing firmly into his bottom lip.

A little more lube, and Viggo gained a short space more, enough so he was able to let his hand curl naturally in on itself. Almost as soon as Viggo made a fist, the dam broke, and the tumble of words he'd been waiting for fell from Sean's lips.

"Please. _Fuck_ me. I-- You-- God, I want--" Viggo twisted his fist and the words devolved into syllables. A gentle nudge forward, a shallow thrust, and Sean lost all coherence, yanking against his bonds, his body arching up off the bed, syllables broken into simple sounds, a jumble of consonants and vowels tumbling one over the other.

Letting go of Sean's hip, Viggo pressed the palm of his free hand to the fly of his pants, feeling his own cock straining against the confinement of cotton. Watching Sean shiver made _him_ shiver, and it took every fibre of his being to concentrate enough to keep up a moderate, shallow pace of light thrusts lest he hurt Sean.

Even so, it wasn't long before Sean was making those needy, desperate noises in the back of his throat that Viggo loved so much. His whole body trembled, muscles tense, desire pumping through him so strongly that Viggo could feel the vibrations in his own. Sean's hips rose, fell, and rose, snapping as he thrust against nothing but air, and with one last twist of his fist, Viggo gloried in the way Sean clamped down around him, shuddered hard and screamed as he came.

Once Sean had calmed, it took Viggo more than a few moments to work his hand free, to unbind and clean him up, but every second of it was worth it, watching his boy, _his Sean_ purr in pure pleasure. Viggo stretched out beside him, tugging him close, breathing in the scent of him even as he slid an arm across Sean's waist, reaching behind him to tug the sheets over them both. He'd undress later, maybe share a warm bath with Sean, but for now, just being close was enough.

"Love you," he murmured in Sean's ear, nuzzling his neck. "I love you so much."

There was a soft noise as Sean roused himself, smiling as he focussed tired eyes on Viggo's face. "You too." He stifled a yawn, pressing tighter against Viggo's chest. "Just what you said."

Maybe it had taken them months to get to this place. Months of false starts and stops, misunderstandings and muddled messages, but here they were now, and it seemed to Viggo it was worth every ounce of effort, and he'd never trade one moment of it for anything else at all.


End file.
